A Love to Hate
by Angeline
Summary: A series of short vignettes depict the sad, lonely life of Petunia Evans, the little girl who had everything but it was her younger sister who took it all away from her. And for that reason alone, she resented her sister and her family. One-shot.


**Author's Note**: Hi, Angeline here. This is a one-shot based on the life of Petunia Evans and my first shot at writing a fully angst one shot. I've always been curious why Petunia has hated Lily, so I wrote this to solve my own questions. I truly believe Petunia was a good person, like I do everybody, so this story reflects some of that. Just someone who has good intentions and _is_ a good person, getting hurt... and what that does. The title means even though they share a love, it's to be hated by Petunia because her family life is so corrupted. As usual, this is unbeta-ed (does anybody want to be my beta? I have so much trouble finding a decent and good one!) Hope you enjoy and love always, A.

**A Love to Hate**

I didn't always hate my sister, you know.

She was my confidante, my best friend, my... everything.

We were two years apart. The age gap meant nothing. It really felt like we were two seconds apart.

The love between us was a purely unadulterated, innocent, sweet love. It was beautiful... and most of all, so wonderfully simple. We both felt it and it... it was simply indescribable. I have never felt such a deep bond with anybody and just gave us both the sense of security, that one person would be cheering for the other. We had this authentic, unconditional life

Despite our age, we truly shared something deep with each other.

She pushed me on the swings in the local park as I tried to kick my little legs as fast as they could go and try to swing into infinity. I would give her that comforting hug after she skinned her knee after she fell off the swings from swinging too high. We would both play in our house, building a fort and pretend to be beautiful princesses of the land whilst wearing the finest dresses made of luxurious silk and cashmere fabrics.

Besides bestowing us with corresponding names of flowers, Mother always dressed us in interrelated outfits. With our adorable curly hair tied with a simple pink ribbon, bright and wide smiles, and lustrous, beaming eyes, we would be the center of attention of just about everybody during church on Sunday mornings. ("Aren't those two Evans sisters just _heavenly_? Goodness gracious, I could eat them right up!")

When we were young, when we were young, when we were young... it was great. Everything was great.

With Lily's growing passion for playing the piano and mine for dancing, it seemed like we all had something to occupy ourselves with.

Father, who was quiet and soft-spoken, would smile admiringly at Lily's intricate music sheets and pat her head lovingly. The expression in his eyes screamed of love for Lily. He would browse over my pointe shoes, tulle tutu, and silk leotard and nod. His eyes lingered on me, giving me a look, as if to say '_No,_ _I _don't_ love you_'. Like usual, he said nothing and left.

It hurt. It hurt deeply that he would appreciate Lily's talents and praise her while he was silent about mine.

As I grew older, I formed possible theories about my fathers' avoidance of myself. Perhaps it was because there was a rumor that Mother had a secret lover, that I was not truly my father's daughter. It did make perfect sense; I didn't have his curly red hair, but instead I had a dirty blonde color. His vivacious green eyes weren't bestowed unto I; but instead, Lily. I didn't have his sharp nose, pale skin, or passion for apples. Instead, I had a small nose, dull brown eyes, and a liking towards anything flavored vanilla, something that Father had hated.

Or are just green eyes, red hair, and a liking for tomatoes merely not a dominant trait?

You never really know.

&&&&&

Despite their lack of love for me, their eldest child, my parents were good people.

Mother liked to do the chores, cook, and garden. The normal housewife duties. After she had Lily, she quit her job (a librarian), because taking care of two girls was already her main, full-time job, she didn't need any distraction from it. She had a warm smile, paired along with soft eyes. She was quite beautiful. She had curly brown hair with gray eyes. It was a rather odd combination, but she somehow made it work.

She met my father through mutual friends. Like most couples, they fell in love and got married.

My father was quiet and shy. He mostly kept to himself. He didn't like socializing with the neighbors... or anybody. He liked to house to be peaceful, maybe a hint of some classical music, but that was about it. Having this personality, he only had one or two good friends that he visited occasionally.

They were good people... they were good people, I keep telling myself. They did not like awkwardness or talking things out too much. It was a recurring thing in our family... all four of us kept to ourselves. Lily and I never shared our hopes, ambitions, or dreams. They never talked about the past or any amusing stories they might have had.

It seemed they were bent on achieving normalcy. They wanted to be the family next door, the typical English family.

They were unconfrontational people. They did what they were told, and always chose the easy, quiet way out of things.

They avoided in-depth talks at all costs.

Maybe that's why I never spoke to them.

&&&&&

Lily was merely ten and I was a mature twelve years old. I had a secret crush on John Amsby, a boy from primary school. He had thick, curly brown hair, large strikingly blue eyes, and a warm smile with dimples on both his cheeks.

I stared at him longingly from the bench, clutching the handle of my lunch pail. He caught me staring and waved cheerfully back.

My heart fluttered as I tinged and quickly turned around, opening my lunch pail and biting boisterously into my ham sandwich. I chewed the morsel of wheat bread and smoked ham fiercely and gulped it down.

"Hi, Petunia," John greeted me.

I froze. Thank goodness I had already swallowed or else I would've choked.

I didn't say a word.

"Want to play hopscotch with me?" He seemed a bit hesitant.

Deep down, I was blushing furiously. I fidgeted nervously. How would I react?

"Sure," I replied shyly. "I'll go get a rock."

I quickly fled to the field to collect the flattest rock I could find. I quickly grabbed it and ran toward John. He was waiting for me, with a patient smile and curious eyes. Oh, those eyes.

"Here," I said, handing him the rock. As the exchange of the rock occurred, I felt his fingers. They were long, delicate, and very, very soft. My hand lingered for a moment but I quickly pulled it away, as if I had been burned by something hot.

I blushed, again, and looked to the floor. I turned around, facing the boxes etched unto the blacktop with chalk.

"You go first," I directed. I was thrilled. _He_ was playing _hopscotch_ with _me_! I felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

"Okay," John answered. "Say, Petunia... I've got a little secret to tell you."

My heart raced. A secret? "My lips are sealed," I responded solemnly.

John bit his lip and looked nervous, all the while looking lovable at the same time.

"It's about your sister," John said, his voice lowering to a quiet whisper, staring at his shoes and shifting his weight from one foot to another. "I... well, I fancy her. D'you reckon I have a chance?"

&&&&&

The house filled with sounds of Lily playing Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. Father was reading the newspaper while drumming his fingers along the leather couch to the beat of the music.

"Good morning, Father," I greeted him as I took a bagel from the pantry.

"Petunia." He didn't even look up. I liked to think that this was his way of saying 'Hello, dear, how are you this wonderful morning?'

Defeated, I went upstairs.

I passed through Mother's room. She was folding clothes while humming along to Moonlight Sonata.

"Isn't this such a nice song?" She said absentmindedly while carefully folding her polka-dotted dress. "I love it when music fills the house. It's so soothing and therapeutic."

It seemed no matter where I went, I couldn't escape Lily.

The boy who I had felt so _strongly_ for had developed feelings for her, my mother and father simply adored her, and everytime that I am in this fucking house, I heard Lily playing her bloody Sonatas.

I went outside, trying to find some activity to do.

I stared at the flowers Mother had planted in our front yard.

They had died. Wilted, dry, and shriveled with time, all of them.

Angrily, I decided to remove them. We could not display dead flowers in front of our house. How would that look to the neighbors? I quickly grabbed each flower firmly and just pulled them out as fast as I could. There were about a dozen or so flowers; it was getting a little harder and harder to pull them out.

I stared at the stack of dead roses, lilies, and petunias. They were lifeless and dead; just like me.

&&&&&

I was sitting at the breakfast table, chewing on a piece of toast. I reached over and took a small sip of orange juice.

Mother on my left, father on my right. Both reading the Sunday Times. Both absolutely quiet, without a word to say.

This is how my home life had become. I had to admit, it was rather peaceful and quite tranquil at the same time... but I hated to admit that I was terribly lonely. Mother was distant, Father was silent, and Lily... Lily? Lily was off in her own world, playing the piano and wooing her beloved parents while ignoring her sister like the outcast she was.

I stared miserably at my bowl of oatmeal.

"Mum, Dad!" A voice cried shrilly.

Mother and Father's heads both snapped up immediately.

"What is it, Lily?" Mother asked.

"Is something wrong?" Father inquired.

"No, nothing's wrong, but..." Lily seemed hesitant. She handed over a manila-white envelope. "An owl just flew by and dropped off a letter! It said I'm supposed to attend some wizarding school or something!"

Father opened the envelope and scanned the letter. He passed it to Mother.

"So... you're a witch?" Father questioned. "How could this be?"

"I have no bloody idea," Lily replied, truly at a loss for words. "This is quite... amazing."

"Oh, Lily! My darling!" Mother exclaimed. "I'm so proud of you, honey. This is absolutely _wonderful_. Harold, we have a _witch_ in our family! How extraordinary is that?"

"Lily, my dear, dear, Lily," Father announced lovingly, "You're a _witch_!"

The three of them enveloped in quite possibly the tightest hug I have ever seen. The sight of all three of them, caught up in such a positive emotion... with me as the derelict, once again; I truly wondered if this was my family or not.

Would a family make you feel as undesirable as how I felt right now?

Would a family shower all their love, care, and support into just _one_ child but not all?

Would a family treat you like you don't even exist; like you're not even there?

My family does.

My "family".

"You're nothing but a freak," I whispered maliciously to my sister.

She stared at me, with huge eyes.

"You're nothing but a freak," I repeated hoarsely.

"Petunia!" Mother replied angrily. "How dare you say that about your sister! Apologi-"

"Never..." I responded venomously, "never speak to me again."

And with one last final, lingering and longing look at my sister, the girl who had isolated me from my "family", the girl who had stole the hearts of both my parents and John Amsby, the only boy who I had ever loved, I brushed right by past her, walked out the door, and never looked back.

&&&&&

She had left for her school. In fact, it had already been a few months.

It was already Halloween.

She had departed during early fall.

I did not see her to the train station. As expected, Mother and Father did.

Since the day that she had received her letter, the day of my outburst, things between Mother, Father, and I had not changed. Not one itty bit.

Maybe they ignored me more. We haven't spoken since.

Of course, we've spoken about little things, like who's going to water the plants, what should we have for dinner, and whatnot, but nothing else.

I truly believe this was the most amount of pain that I could ever bear.

I was outside again, staring at the flowers.

As usual, they were all dead. I had no energy to prune them. I had no desire or longing to either. I had no drive anymore.

I had nothing.

Across the street, a new family was moving in.

I squinted. A mother, a father, and a boy, perhaps around my age.

They all looked so happy.

He caught me staring at him.

Then, he waved at me.

In return, I gave him a small, sad smile.

&&&&&

His name was Vernon Dursley.

It was quite grotesque.

But he was a good listener.

I didn't tell him that Lily was a witch. Just that she went to some top boarding school in Scotland or whatever.

He believed me.

It was the holidays and Mother and Father left on some cruise in the Caribbean.

They didn't invite me, naturally.

Vernon was over and we were lying on the grass outside, staring up into the sky.

It was purely innocent; nothing else.

"So, how about you?" I asked, rolling onto my stomach. "Any siblings?"

"One," Vernon replied. "Marge. She's alright."

"Lucky."

"Not really. It's boring."

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Look, Petunia," Vernon said suddenly, pointing upwards. "A shooting star."

I quickly rolled over and got a glimpse of it.

"That was amazing," I breathed. "I've never seen a shooting star before."

"Neither have I," I admitted.

We were silent for a moment; just busy staring at the stars.

"Vernon?" I asked.

"Yes?"

I hesitated.

"Do you believe in magic?"

&&&&&

She was home from her first year.

She hasn't changed. Same red hair, same green eyes.

Same tinkling laugh.

Same sounds of Mozart and Beethoven, filling the house once again.

In celebration of her return, Mother and Father made a quick trip to Steelsky Bakery, the most expensive bakery in England to buy her a few tarts, rolls, and a massive cake. There were only apple rolls. No vanilla. Of course not.

Why would there be vanilla rolls?

When they weren't looking, I stole an apple roll.

It was exquisitely wrapped in light pink chiffon with a matching pink ribbon a few shades darker.

It was beautiful... too beautiful to eat, even.

Fuck it, I thought. I crammed it into my mouth, trying to taste the luxuries that my mother and father have worked so dear hard for that have never, not once, been offered to I. I wanted to taste the love in this roll; I wanted to _feel_ something from my parents. I wanted to feel... something, something like them telling me that having me wasn't the biggest mistake of their life.

I stared at the roll. A huge chunk was missing. I gave it a watery smile.

After I ate it, I threw up. It was revolting.

"The house was so lonely without you, Lily," Mother said, with a touch of sadness. "The cruise was awful shoddy without you, dear."

"I missed the music, too," Father admitted. "It was soothing. The house just wasn't the same."

Lily smiled. "I do what I can."

I left the room.

She was horribly disgusting.

And at the same time, I had suddenly realized that no matter how much I ate or tried... I would always, _always_ be their biggest mistake.

Because sometimes life is just like that.

&&&&&

"No," Vernon replied vaguely, staring in the sky, "I don't believe in magic."

"I don't either," I answered weakly, with tears in my eyes. I quickly wiped them away before Vernon could sense something was wrong.

"Absolute rubbish," he commented.

I rolled onto my stomach and breathed in the scent of the grass and the night sky. "Mmhm," I agreed wordlessly. _If only he knew_...

He exhaled slowly and closed his eyes. "Random question," he commented.

I rolled back unto my back. "Just curious."

&&&&&

It had been six years since she had received that letter, assuring her status as a freak.

Six long, tedious years.

She had received her letter again this year.

With a little special something: she was Head Girl.

I scoffed sadly to myself. I haven't even been made Prefect yet.

This year, Mother bought double the amount of rolls she usually orders from Steelsky Bakery. Along with the cakes and pastries. This time, she even added in pound cake and a loaf of bread. The cost? A small fortune.

I hope Lily gets fat from eating them.

Although I don't know why she'd still eat them. They're still as damn disgusting as when I first tasted them.

And I don't know why I keep going back.

&&&&&

It was my wedding day.

It was supposed to be a day of love, laughs, and enjoyment. Something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue.

My parents look bored.

My mother looked at my father. "Where's Lily?"

I smiled sadly to myself. It was my wedding day, the most special day of my life, and all my mother could think of was to find her youngest daughter.

My white dress, my beautiful white dress that had set back my parents a small fortune. Even though this dress was ridiculously expensive and my parents agreed to pay for it, it was absolutely meaningless to me. Money should be destroyed.

When I asked my father to walk me down the aisle, he looked hesitant.

After all, he might not really be my father, so why the hell should he walk me down the aisle?

"Okay," Father finally agreed.

I could tell it was forced. But he agreed, and that's that.

My maid of honor was Vernon's sister, Marge. She was quite large, beefy, and spoke lovingly of her dogs, which I came to abhor. They were just _dogs_.

I stared down at my extravagant frock. It was intricately laced with rhinestones, sequins, and laces. It billowed out like a sail.

The ceremony was about to begin any minute; I eyed my reflection in the mirror.

Like all brides should, I looked beautiful. Elegant, regal, and lavish... but none of that elegance, regalness, or lavishness could mend the gaping black hole in my soul that I sought to repair so desperately.

"Lily," Marge said, bursting into my private room.

I turned around slowly. "Yes, Marge?"

She gazed at me. "You look great. Ceremony's going to start in about five." She left, boisterously.

I laughed silently to myself. Marge is such an amusing person.

I questioned myself; did I really love Vernon?

I hesitated, knowing I could not lie to myself.

_ No,_ I said to myself firmly,_ I don't love __Vernon__. I never have and I don't think I ever will._

&&&&&

I was walking down the aisle, linked with the arm of my Father.

Everybody's eyes were on me. Relatives, friends, and others...

I even caught the eye of John Amsby in the middle rows.

Lily didn't come. She was at her freak school.

Thank goodness.

If I didn't love him, why am I marrying him?

Five steps, four steps, three steps, two steps, one step.

We were there.

I looked at Father, and he silently released my arm whilst turning his back to walk to his seat.

I guess he didn't have anything to say.

"You look radiant," Vernon whispered into my ear, while giving my hand an affectionate little squeeze.

"Thanks," I murmured.

"We are gathered here today..."

&&&&&

"I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

I was Mrs. Petunia Dursley.

Vernon kissed my cheek softly and I grinned. Even though I did not love Vernon, I know he would provide me a fantastic life with just about everything I needed. Marrying Vernon was my escape from my dismal childhood, parents, and Lily... especially Lily. The escape from her was so damn close, I could already taste it.

Everybody stood up and clapped.

I couldn't help but blush. I caught a glimpse at Father.

A single solitary tear slipped out from his eye and unto his cheek.

&&&&&

We were newlyweds. And we were opening our gifts. We had moved to a new house, on a new street, in a new city.

"Look Vernon," I said, amused, "the Dinglewhitts bought us _two_ toasters."

He shook his head. "That Maria..."

My life felt perfect. I had escaped my hell and latched onto this perfect heaven.

A small box was on the ground that I had not noticed before.

It was in a pink box, made of paper. Inside was that familiar pink chiffon with that ribbon tied around it neatly. I carefully undid the bow and opened it. It had all felt so familiar, that day when I ate one of Lily's rolls. But this time, the roll was white, not pink. Vanilla.

Attached to it was a small piece of paper.

"_Thought you might like.__ -Mum_"

&&&&&

I had given birth to a son with Vernon.

We had named him Dudley.

We were quite happy and even though I said to myself that I would never love Vernon, he's growing on me.

If you looked past all his faults, you'd realize he was a good person.

Dudley is about a year old now.

I yawned and stretched as I woke up. I smiled at my sleeping Dudley and my husband, Vernon, who was slumbering peacefully.

I put on my robe and began my morning ritual. I went downstairs and opened the door, but instead of discovering the Sunday Times, a small baby in a basket was resting there. An envelope with my name on it had nestled snugly in the blankets.

I quickly brought the baby inside. As I opened the letter, I noticed he looked a lot like the boy that Lily had once brought home. He was a wizard, too. The baby was adorable.

As I scanned through the words that Albus Dumbledore had wrote to me and thought about my childhood, once again, I knew something... the determined truth was that whatever I did I could never avoid it. After all, what happens happens and there is no changing that.

As flawed and imperfect as they were, they were apart me. They molded me to what I have become today, and even though it may not be the ideal situation for me, it was still pretty damn good.

I realized the inevitable truth: no matter how much cake I ate, how much I tried to block out the sonatas, where I moved to... I could never really escape Lily, Father, or Mother.

So as of today, I have accepted that. As I look down to my peacefully sleeping nephew, I've accepted that by bringing this boy into my family, it would serve as a constant reminder of my sister, father, and mother... even though they never said much and maybe resented me at times, and even though there was a chance that I wasn't my father's, I still knew that deep down, they still loved me... because loving your family is the one thing that you can't not do, regardless of whatever they might've done to you.So as of today, I have accepted that. I've accepted that by bringing this boy into my family, it would serve as a constant reminder of my sister, father, and mother... even though they never said much, I still knew that deep down, they still loved me.

&&&&&


End file.
